Lost Thing
by Sebastian the Mercat
Summary: One mistake was all it took, to send Arcadia Bay spiraling downwards. That mistake began and ended with Nathan Prescott, though not in the way you might think - this mistake occurred several years before Nathan brought a gun to school. No, this mistake occurred for one reason, and one reason alone: Nathan's father would not allow his son to be a "freak." Warnings are inside.


**_Salutations. I needed to get my Nathan Prescott feels out. I really did. So that's why this happened. I am so sorry._**

 ** _Main character: Nathan Prescott_**

 ** _Pairing: N/A_**

 ** _Warnings: Child abuse, substance abuse, transphobia_**

 ** _Important Note: This fanfiction was published previous to the release of episode 4._**

* * *

Nathan - from a young age - knew how to get things he wanted; twas the perks of being a "spoiled little rich kid".

He knew the ins and outs of asking for things - sensing his parents moods, that is, and being able to interpret whether to blatantly ask, to slyly manipulate the situation into his favor.

Of course, at the time of the greatest and last great experience he would ever have, he was 5 - so words such as "slyly", "manipulate", and "situation" weren't hardly in his vocabulary.

Nevertheless, he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it.

He began is masterful plan by dropping hints of his loneliness - he was, after all, an only child, and his private tutor could only provide so much in the way of companionship.

His father was eager to hear his complaints, and immediately began phoning some of the most respectable families of Arcadia Bay, to see if any of their spawn were in need of a playmate.

However, his father only called those that had SONS. And that was not part of Nathan's plan.

He feigned shyness towards most of the boys whom houses he was sent forth to - anything from hiding behind his parents' legs to having all-out tantrums on the floor appeared to work, as most of the families politely stated at the end of the quote-on-quote "play dates" that they would call the Prescotts to schedule another get-together.

And of course, they would not call.

Nathan began appealing to his mother, talking constantly of his loneliness to her, but never around his father - he would probably try to track down some upper-class boys from Seattle, if Nathan even mentioned his situation again.

His mother was rather oblivious, and it took a ridiculous amount of blatancy for her to finally get the picture.

She called up some of her Bridge girlfriends, to see if any of them had children that Nathan could be friends with.

He struck gold when his mother hung up the phone to cautiously tell him one of her friends had a daughter around his age, named Victoria.

Nathan tried to control his enthusiasm, but there was only so much a five-year-old could do about something like that.

"Will you mind it?" his mother had asked him, as soon as he had finished his ecstatic squealing.

"Mind what?" he asked, confused.

"Victoria is a girl..."

"It will be fun!" Nathan had to take a few deep breaths, to calm his rapidly beating heart. "I've always wanted to be friends with a girl!"

And so a play date was set up between Nathan Prescott and Victoria Chase.

Waiting for that play date was the longest week of young Nathan's life. Focusing on anything but the play date was a struggle. In his spare time, he would sit in his room, drawing out a detailed representation of what Victoria's room would look like. Sometimes he would spend hours on a particular section, scribbling with his pink crayon, trying to get everything to be absolutely perfect.

His favorite thing to draw from the room he had dreamed up for Victoria was the clothing.

He imagined everything from little white jumpers to t'shirts embroidered with flower patterns to the frilliest and purest pink dresses imaginable. Sometimes he would close his eyes, a smile on his face, as he imagined the feeling of the material - the smooth silk, the comfortable cotton, the velvety...velvet.

When the day finally arrived, Nathan had nearly worked himself into a tizzy, for he had demanded for his outfit to be changed multiple times - he wrung his hands and ground his teeth, clearly nervous.

When he made it, finally made it, to the house as large as his, and up the large staircase to a pure white door with elegant calligraphy spelling out the name "Victoria" upon it, Nathan was shaking from nervousness.

Ever so quietly he knocked on her door.

When she opened it, Nathan immediately looked right past her to a room far more beautiful than the one he had imagined. After all, he had no crayons that shimmered and sparkled, like Victoria's appeared to.

She welcomed him in and talked - at him, not to him, as he was quite distracted by the numerous shades of pink, purple, and white that adorned the room.

Eventually, she must have tired of his mindless staring, for she asked, "Do you wanna play or not?"

Nathan stared at her with starstruck eyes. "You mean...I can..." 'touch your toys?'

The second half of the sentence refused to drop off his tongue.

Victoria rolled her eyes. "I have dress up clothes in the closet. We're playing the Knight and the Beautiful Princess. I'm the beautiful princess," she explained, as she began rummaging in the closet.

Nathan leaned around her, trying to get a peak, but she slammed the doors shut once she got what she needed.

The knight's costume was tight and itchy, and Nathan hated it. It was even a dull and ugly grey-green color, which was the color Nathan despised most in the world. Even the plastic crown propped on his head felt wrong, how it pinched at his forehead and rubbed his ears.

Victoria...on the other hand...

The dress she wore was elaborate, layer upon layer of soft tulle making the pink fabric fluff out as though it defied gravity. The bodice was adorned with the shiniest of fake jewels that glimmered at the slightest movement from Victoria.

Nathan found this entire situation entirely unfair.

However, as stated above, Nathan was manipulative, even at such a young age. And, now that he had gotten a taste of what he wanted, he was willing to be patient, and enjoy the slow ascent to his goal.

A few months went by, filled with playing the Knight and the Beautiful Princess, "house", watching Disney princess movies, playing with Barbies, and even Nathan having to get a makeover from Victoria (she wanted to be a cosmetologist at the time).

He enjoyed every second of it.

Finally, after months of dealing with Victoria's Victoria-ness, the opportunity presented itself.

"Nathan, what do you wanna do today?" Victoria asked with a yawn.

Nathan froze, the mini-hairbrush poised to run through Barbie's hair once more. He immediately dropped all that he was doing.

"Let's play the Knight and the Beautiful Princess again, only with a twist!" Nathan exclaimed.

Victoria looked at him curiously, as Nathan usually made an upset face every time she suggested they play it.

"What's the twist?"

"This time...I wanna be the princess."

Nathan bowed his head nervously as the other five year old looked at him curiously. She had never heard of a boy wanting to play the part of a princess before.

But she shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Nathan lunged up immediately, grabbing the gown in his small fists; that was actually his first time touching it.

"Can I change in the bathroom?" Nathan asked, already going into the room across the hall.

He stripped quickly, down to his Superman underpants, gently easing the dress on.

It fit. And perfectly.

There was no awkward feeling, no yanking or pulling in places there shouldn't be, no places that were too tight or places that were too loose.

When he turned and looked at himself in the mirror, tears filled his eyes - but these were not tears that a normal five-year-old would cry, as these were tears of absolute happiness.

He had never felt so happy in his entire life.

The dress looked so pretty and perfect on him, be was afraid to move at all, for fear of breaking this strange spell that had overcome him.

He did move, though - forward, as he hesitantly wrapped his chubby little hands around a lipstick container and some eye shadow.

He was careful not to get anything on the dress. The makeup wasn't perfect on him (as he had only ever watched his mom put it on herself and experienced Victoria's harsh makeup skills, never having put the stuff on himself).

However, when he pulled back, looking at the crooked lines of lipstick plastered on his lips, he smiled ever-so-large.

The last touch was the large tiara Victoria always wore. Though he didn't have long enough hair to look as elegant as he desired, the effect was still magical.

He went back quickly to Victoria's room, though mindful of the delicate dress.

When Victoria saw him, she pouted.

"No fair! You look all pretty and stuff and I'm dressed up all ugly!"

Nathan gave her a slightly annoyed look. "I've been dressing up in that outfit every time we play this game, and you've worn THIS DRESS every time we've played as well, and THAT'S not fair."

Nathan should have known not to use logic such as that one somebody like Victoria, with her snobbish, shallow attitude.

Victoria's eyes began watering. "But...b-but...I AM A PRINCESS!" she screeched, before dissolving into a horrible fit of hiccuping sobs.

Nathan was so caught up in his surprise at her sudden tantrum, that he didn't hear the pounding of several feet coming up the stairs, heading down the hall to Victoria's room-

The door burst open.

Victoria's parents entered first, immediately going over to their daughter to see what caused her such distress.

Nathan's parents, however, froze at the door, their eyes wide.

Nathan turned around slowly, feeling something wiggle uncomfortably in his stomach - it made it feel uncomfortable, kind of like it hurt. He bit his lip.

His parents didn't say a word, not moving at all, either, their faces froze in shock.

"Vicky, dear, what happened?" Nathan heard Victoria's mother ask from behind him. He quickly turned back around to face them.

That feeling in his stomach intensified, when Victoria lifted her head from her father's shoulder, red-rimmed eyes glaring at him with all their might.

Almost against his will, he felt his head dip down, as it felt like it weighed super heavy suddenly. He stared deeply into the almost sickeningly sweet color of the dress, wishing nothing more than to throw it off, in that moment.

The pure ecstasy of wearing the dress had vanished. Left in its place was the feeling of absolute wrongness about his situation.

"He...he wouldn't let me be the princess!" Victoria said suddenly, pointing a chubby finger at him.

Nathan felt his ears become very hot.

"He said..." Victoria continued, her eyes burning into his skull, "that HE wanted to be the princess INSTEAD!"

Nathan couldn't breath, as suddenly the room seemed a lot smaller than it really was. He felt as though everyone in there was squeezing against him, whispering imperceptible things in his ears.

He especially felt his father's presence behind him.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air when he realized his father had placed a large hand on his shoulder, squeezing rather hard.

"Are you sure?" his father's voice echoed in his ear, though the man could have only spoken at a whisper level.

Victoria nodded swiftly, before ducking her head in her father's shoulder once more.

Nathan's father hand tightened. "I see."

Victoria's mother stood up suddenly. Her eyes traveled over Nathan, as though she couldn't see him, before landing on the eyes of his parents, flitting back and forth.

"I...I think you should take your..." she hesitated a beat too long, "...your son, and have a safe trip home-"

She barely had finished the sentence, before Nathan was dragged out of the room, back to the bathroom. He changed swiftly, though with a great deal of hesitation. When he was back in his normal clothing, with the beautiful dress hanging on it's little hanger on the wall, a sharp pain tore through him - a feeling he had never felt before.

He felt like curling up and crying, but he had no reason why he should.

A solid knock sounded at the door, before his father swung the door open. Seeing his son was once again dressed, his hand resumed its place on his shoulder, as he hustled him out if the house.

The short ride back to their house was silent. Nathan shifted in his seat uneasily, as every time he looked up at the rear-view mirror, his dad's eyes were trained on him, glinting like shards of ice.

His mother, on the other hand, had not looked Nathan in the eye since she had seen him in the dress.

Nathan surreptitiously whipped at his mouth, trying to be rid of some of the makeup on his face.

It only smeared it further.

They finally parked in the driveway leading to Nathan's house. He began unbuckling his seat belt, when his father's cold voice interrupted his actions.

"Stay in your seat, Nathan."

Nathan's mother paused in her own getting out of the car to look at her husband, her eyes not even darting towards her son. "Sean?"

His father leaned over to her, a tired look on his face as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We'll be back later tonight, honey, don't worry. I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, climbing the rest of the way out, and shutting the door.

Nathan, by this time, was quaking, silent tears running down his face. He fought against his seat belt, as his father pulled back out of the driveway, away from Nathan's home and his mother.

"Momma!" Nathan screamed, banging his hand against the window! "Momma! I wanna go home with Momma!"

"Sit down, Nathan," his father's voice was no longer soft, he face no longer tired. "We have a long drive ahead of us."

By long drive, Nathan could not possibly have imagined the events that would transpire over the course of the next week.

They drove from Arcadia Bay, to Seattle, to San Francisco, to Phoenix. If there was a big city out West, then the two Prescotts hit it.

It was not a vacation, though, his father explained to him, but a business trip.

A business trip all about Nathan.

Or rather, a business trip trying to find out what was wrong with Nathan.

It was always the same. They would drive for hours on end in tense silence, Nathan fidgeting, as he fought down hunger and bathroom pains, too scared to ask his irate father for a pit-stop.

They would eventually come to a large, expensive-looking building, and go inside. They'd be taken to an area that was painted all white, and had large words plastered everywhere that confused and disoriented him.

They'd sit for a while in a room filled with people that would randomly burst out crying or screaming, or people that just huddled in the corner. Eventually, they'd be taken to yet another room.

Only when he was in that room, did he feel a bit better, and less scared and nervous. After all, for part of the time he would talk to the people in the white coats, his dad wasn't in the room.

Eventually, however, Nathan's dad would be called back into the room, and the person would tell him the exact same thing all the others in lab coats had told him before:

"Your son is transgender. He is actually a she."

Then his father would grab onto Nathan's arm super tight, pulling him all the way to the car without another word.

After a week of this, they finally returned home.

However, things did not stop there. His father had one last plan.

"I hate to ask such a favor of him," he heard his father say one night to his mother, when they thought he was sleeping. "But this...situation...it leaves me no choice."

"Sean...what exactly do you think he will say that will be any different from what all the others said?"

Nathan flinched at the sound of a fist hitting wood and the rattling of expensive cutlery. "They were all crackpots, full of all that "politically correct" rubbish the news feeds us these days." There was a long pause, in which Nathan nearly sneaked back down the hall to his room. However, his father's voice picked up once again. "Nathan is a boy. A boy with something clearly and obviously wrong with him, but a boy all the same, damn it!"

Nathan swallowed hard, feeling his eyes burn and his chest ache.

He had only wanted to be the princess for once, to be beautiful like he had always dreamed! Why did this have to make everything so complicated?!

Nathan quickly rushed back to his room before he could get caught, crawling under his blankets and curling up.

It's a foolish hope children have, that things like blankets can save you from monsters - and perhaps that may be true. It wasn't for Nathan though, for the type of monsters he had, he could not see.

That was the first time Nathan had actually cried himself to sleep.

He woke up early the next morning, far earlier than an exhausted five-year-old who had spend the past week sleeping in a car should have been. He whined, rolling over, as his father continued to prod him. "I'm tired," he slurred.

"Nathan, get up," his father snapped. Nathan opened one eye, looking at him tiredly. "You have a special appointment today with another doctor...hopefully this will be the last visit."

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing into his warm blankets. "I don't wanna."

The air in the room seemed to become quite a bit colder. "Excuse me?"

Nathan immediately sat up, wide awake as he stared at his fuming father with fearful eyes. "I...I don't wanna see another doctor!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Nathan felt his head suddenly snap to the side.

It took a few seconds for the burning and for the realization that his father had hit him - had actually HIT HIM for the FIRST TIME - to kick in.

The tears began immediately. "P...papa...y...y-you hit me," Nathan whispered, a small chubby hand coming up to cup his aching cheek.

His father seemed shocked himself, but he shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Let's hope you won't force me to do it again," he said calmly, though his hands shook. "Never. EVER. Disrespect me again, you hear?"

Nathan nodded, opening his wide, child-like eyes (when had he ever squeezed them shut).

His father stood up straight. "Very good. Now get ready, your appointment is early."

As soon as his father left the room, Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth to stop them from shattering. He felt ever so cold.

Going to this appointment was different than all the others, as it wasn't that far a drive - only part of the way across town. It wasn't in a large white building, either, only a one-story house painted a dull green color.

Nathan winced, as his father put the car in park. He still very much hated that color of green.

The room he went to was very different from the other rooms he had been to as well. It wasn't white with colorful and cute animals all over the place. It was a wood-paneled room, with a cracked leather chair-like thingy sitting near a hearth.

Though the room had a homey feel, like it should be warm, Nathan could not help but to shiver. He lingered near the door, until his father's fingers digging into his shoulder drove him forward.

The man that came into the room didn't wear a white coat, but he did wear a smile.

He shook Nathan's dad's hand. "Sean, it's nice to see you again."

His father smiled, taking the hand. "It's nice to see you as well! It's been a while!"

The other man glanced at Nathan, an uneasy expression overcoming his face. "Yes, your wife told me you two have been traveling this past week, so that's why we didn't run into each other..."

Nathan's father tensed. "Right...I suppose we should get down to business, then."

Nathan was made to sit on the cracked leather chair thing, as he answered the man's questions. They were similar questions to those the other doctors had asked, really, but there was one difference.

Nathan's dad was present the entire time.

When Nathan was told to sit up straight, he did so, thinking the interrogation was over.

However, a concerned look overtook the doctor's face. "Son, where'd you get that mark on your face?"

Immediately, his hand flew up to his cheek. It had been aching since his father had struck him that morning - had it indeed left a mark?

His father answered before he could. "Ah...he was being rather disrespectful this morning. You know how kids are, these days."

The doctor chuckled nervously, that concerned look never straying from his eyes, as he observed Nathan's upset expression. "That I do, Sean."

There was a long, rather awkward pause. "So, Doc. What's the verdict?"

The doctor hesitated a moment longer, before speaking. "I'm...afraid I don't know what to tell you. Nothing I will say will be different from what the other doctors you visited have said."

Nathan's father moved quickly, moving from the place he had been sitting to standing above the doctor, hands fisted in his shirt.

"You..." his father ground out lowly. "...have served as the Prescott family physician for years. You're a good man, or so I thought. I thought you were different than these crackpots with their ridiculous ideas..."

The doctor stuttered, trying to pry the other man's fingers off, to no avail. Nathan was stuck quivering in his seat, eyes wide.

"I have the right mind to take our business elsewhere, mind you!"

The doctor squeezed his eyes shut, knowing the weight his next words would hold. "It's...it is possible...that he could have...schizophrenia..." he said hesitantly.

Immediately, he was released, as Sean Prescott stood tall once more. "Ah. That is...troublesome indeed, but a great deal less so than the...other thing..." He chucked somewhat nervously, glancing back at his son.

Nathan looked between the doctor and his father, confused.

His father turned back to the doctor. "Well, write up the prescription for whatever he needs to take, and we'll be on our way."

As they were leaving, pharmacy slip in his father's hand, Nathan looked back briefly at the doctor. What he saw in his eyes, he couldn't understand at the time, though he became very familiar with that look over the years.

The pity. The guilt. The silent apologies he could never voice.

The first pills Nathan got were Risperidone. He hated them with a passion.

They made him drowsy, they made him confused. He stumbled around his house, like a glassy-eyed ghost, his body aching and yet oh-so numb. Sometimes, he would find himself just sitting around, staring at nothing and doing nothing, just waiting for the medicine to wear off.

And then things got worse.

He could barely move around, by the time he was seven, the shaking and quaking of his body having gotten so bad. The pain in his joints escalated into shooting lightning bolts of agony. His muscles burned, from being constantly tensed in an effort to control the shaking.

When he turned eight, the seizures began. Finally, he was taken back to the strange doctor. Of course, he didn't remember much of the meeting - in fact, he hardly realized he was somewhere not in his house.

They left the doctor's house soon after, another prescription clutched in his dad's hand.

The Diazepam made the shaking and seizures stop. For a while. The doctor had warned him and his parents that it was "habit-forming" and "very addictive".

Nathan found himself shaking, even when his body was completely motionless. He would crawl out of bed in the middle of the night, go crying to his parents that he needed more, anything to stop his stomach from sloshing around, to stop the world from shifting as it was.

The next meds he was prescribed was pain-killers, as the agony of his joints had yet to have ceased. The pain-killers weren't too bad, but they caused him to have a near-constant headache, as focusing whilst on then was a difficult task.

The doctor then deduced he had some sort of attention deficit disorder. They gave him a mixture of Adderall for that.

Of all the drugs, he hated those the most. His body had adverse side effects to the Adderall - nearly every day he woke up with a fever, like he was burning up from the inside out.

The hardest thing about it, was how he couldn't focus properly on anything about him, or his emotions...he could only focus on one thing at a time.

And usually, that one thing was anger.

At fourteen years old, going into high school, Nathan Prescott was on 5 different pills, as a daily fever-reducer had been added to the cocktail.

That's when he met Frank, and began getting some "higher education". That's when Nathan became cool.

Well. Kind of.

To him, he was merely existing. Maybe not even that. He drifted like a ghost, a mad ghost with no emotion.

No control.

One night towards the end of his junior year of high school, Nathan got so high, the world was merely a blur. He ended up calling his parents, telling them he was staying the night at a friend's house.

He forgot to take his pills, that night.

He woke up early the next morning, with a headache pulsing in his head, and thoughts and emotions he could CONTROL running through his body.

In the half-light of the living room of Hayden Jones's house, Nathan rolled onto his side, and sobbed silently.

He ended up leaving before the others could wake up. But he didn't leave empty handed.

For the entire summer before he entered Blackwell, Nathan Prescott had a secret.

In a black bag, hidden in the farthest reaches under his bed, was clothing that belonged to Taylor. To Victoria. To Dana. To any and every girl that had been at Hayden's party.

None of them suspected him. Who would?

He was careful about taking his meds. His parents still made him take the pills in front of them, after all. However...they were getting smarter. They caught him one day, spitting the pills out in the bathroom sink, after having hid them under his tongue.

Regardless as to whether he was drugged motionless or as clean as a freshly bathed baby, Nathan had a ritual.

Every night, he would pull out the bag, and pull on some of the clothes. Only then, could his mind finally relax enough, for him to focus, to feel good about himself for once.

Until a couple weeks before his entrance into Blackwell, that is.

His father had caught him, and he had nearly been beaten to death, that night.

The next morning, he was taken to that doctor he had visited all those years ago. He laid down on the cracked hair once more, only this time he laid on his stomach with his feet at the higher end, as the doctor slowly applied the antiseptic to the bloody welts littered across his back.

After his torso was wrapped, his sprained wrist tended to, and his bruises iced, the doctor gently took his hands, as he himself broke down crying.

"N-Nathan...my boy...I...am so sorry..." the doctor sobbed, as Nathan just sat there.

Eventually, Nathan could take it no longer. He jerked his hands away, his eyes flashing in warning. "What's done is done, old man! None of us can do anything about that shit anymore. So shut the fuck up already."

The doctor's eyes met his, and the reflected shock and even a bit of fear.

Nathan stood up, mindful of his injuries, as he crossed his arms. "Just give me the prescriptions, and let me go. I need to finish packing up my shit so I can move into Blackwell on time."

When the doctor handed Nathan the prescriptions, their eyes met once more, and the doctor looked, really looked at Nathan's eyes.

What he saw there...he had never seen in any of the patients he had ever had. There was pure, utter fear and pain, swimming around in those glassy, unfocused eyes - the eyes of one that had experienced such a level of trauma, that not even they themselves could comprehend it.

"Nathan," the doctor whispered suddenly. "I...can help you..."

Nathan's eyes flashed, and all those emotions were gone. Pure unadulterated rage was left in their wake.

"You don't know who the FUCK I am!" he roared, pushing the doctor back, as he snatched up the written prescriptions and branded then like a weapon.

He turned and left the house, walking down the sidewalk stiffly. He paused briefly, to look back at the house, his eyes unfocused once more. "I don't even know who the fuck I am, so how could you?" he asked quietly, before continuing on his way.

Blackwell turned out to live up to its nickname: Black hell.

It was one party after another, one forgotten night after another. Every morning, waking up in different places around campus, with a pulsing headache and a churning in his stomach. One rage-fit after another.

By this time, Nathan had forgotten what it was like to have any control over his life - if he had ever had any in the first place.

Somehow, he found himself standing in front of the girl's bathroom, the heavy weight of a gun resting in his pocket.

Wasn't that the ironies of ironies, he thought to himself, as he entered.

* * *

 ** _I just want to say that it's no headcanon of mine, that Nathan is transgender - however, I really wanted to write this story...so I did!_**

 ** _So a couple of the things that were brought up (on Tumblr) that made me write this was a person questioning why Nathan would have agreed to meet Chloe in the girls' restrooms - it wasn't like they had a Moaning Murtle at Blackwell that made everyone stay away. And it wasn't as though it was the easiest place for Chloe to meet him either, what with her being expelled. So why? I just figured he was almost comfortable with the idea, at least in this fic's opinion._**

 ** _Oh, as well, I did look up the names of a couple of the pill bottles that were in his locker in the pool - namely Risperidone and Diazepam. The side-effects for the drugs I described are accurate, as well as for their "suspected" reasons for being taken._**

 ** _In any case, I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to review!_**


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